His mien is dignified, his gait is slow; If upstart strangers try to catch his eye He kicks the dust behind with scornful toe, Averts his lifted nose and passes by. His friends he greets with careful etiquette, Permits his well-poised tail-tip to vibrate, Then treads with them the solemn minuet That antique custom and good form dictate. But Ponto by the sea! ah, who would know This damp wild ragamuffin on the strand Who importunes the passers-by to throw Big stones across the opal-shining sand? Ponto dishevelled, ears turned inside out, Has suffered some sea change; his social worth Is all forgot; he leads a Comus rout, Tykes of the shore and curs of lowly birth. Yelping with joy he brings his wolfish pack About my legs, as, dripping from the sea, I pick my way thro' shingle and wet wrack Beleaguered by this bandit company. But when the day comes round to leave the shore Ponto puts off this maniac _Mr. Hyde_; Becomes a _Dr. Jekyll_ dog once more And homeward goes serene and dignified. * * * * * AT THE PLAY. "MAMEENA." Those who are not in the mood just now for a whole evening of exotic melodrama might look in at the Globe Theatre about 9.15, and derive a few moments' distraction from a Zulu wedding dance. I found it a better show than anything I have ever seen in the native compounds at Earl's Court. The company, of course, was mixed, but the white contingent had caught the local colour (coffee) and showed great aptitude in imitating the methods of the aborigines. Naturally there were conventions; the chiefs talked fluent English, while the Zulu supers employed their own vernacular, except in certain formal phrases, as when the "praisers" (my programme's name for a sort of universal _claque_) punctuated the speeches of their king with cries of "Yes, O Lion!" or "Yes, Great Beast!" No doubt our honoured visitors could perceive many technical points in which the ruling race exposed itself as having something yet to learn, but they tactfully concealed all signs of superior civilisation; and the British audience, well pleased with the novelty and picturesqueness of the scenes, were content to waive invidious distinctions. The little brochure that was thrown in with the programme informs me that the martial spirit of the Zulus (at that time under their own _regime_) was "identical in many respects with 'Prussian Militarism.'" Certainly there was a savagery about the way in which they progged the air with their assegais that made one picture them as _capables de tout_. But any comparison, whether in point of costume or royal bearing, between _King Mpande_ and the GERMAN KAISER must have been in favour of the latter. On the other hand, his son _Umbuyazi_ was a far nobler figure than my conception of the CROWN PRINCE.